


now you're in the right place.

by katarama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 00:21:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4585827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles are boyfriends living in an apartment complex together.  Derek moves in next to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	now you're in the right place.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lonniek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonniek/gifts).



> For [this](http://dasbijou.tumblr.com/post/124614462786/pretty-please-somebody-write-me-fic-where-derek) tumblr prompt and for my TW Bingo prompt "I think I locked my keys inside."

The apartment next to Scott and Stiles’ has been empty for so long they’d almost forgotten anyone had ever lived there. There was someone, when they first moved in, a year ago; they had been bright-eyed and eager to be in their very first apartment that they were paying for as college graduates with real jobs. Lydia had helped with the selection, because Scott and Stiles realized very quickly that they had no idea what they were looking for now that their priority wasn’t how close their apartment was to campus.

Because Lydia was involved, they aren’t in the ratholes Stiles gravitated towards when he gets fixated on rent costs. Their apartment complex isn’t fancy, but it’s a respectable establishment with a landlord that keeps regular hours and actually handles maintenance complaints quickly. It’s a big improvement from their college apartment, and it’s somewhere where Lydia announces she isn’t embarrassed to spend her time. Between Stiles and Scott, they can make their payments, and it’s a legit place to live.

Their old next-door neighbor, however, wasn’t exactly their landlord’s favorite person. Or, at least, that was the impression that Scott had been given, based on stories that their other neighbors shared and based on the fact that after their second week of living there, Scott and Stiles were woken up early in the morning on a weekend by the blaring of the fire alarm and the landlord shouting.

Apparently, it wasn’t the first fire he’d set, and there was enough damage that the landlord had had enough. Their hallway smelled of smoke for a week, and even after their neighbor was evicted, the landlord had some work to do on the apartment before it was ready to offer up again.

No one moved in, though. Scott and Stiles had relished the silence and the privacy. Their neighbor on the other side was a sweet, elderly man who was a little hard of hearing and who they only interacted with when he went to get his daily paper from downstairs. The vacant apartment was the one that shared a wall with Stiles and Scott’s bedroom, though, so they didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing anything they didn’t want to through the thin walls of the apartment building.

They get used to having the space to themselves. On date nights, they come back to their apartment and don’t even turn music on to block out their sounds. Stiles has always been loud, and he can coax it out of Scott, especially when there’s no one around to complain or to listen.

When someone moves in next to them, though, some things have to change.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles is the first one to meet their new neighbor, though he doesn’t realize it at the time.

It’s early in the morning, and he’s late for work. He has a thermos full of coffee Scott brewed for him that’s just a bit too bitter, but Stiles is in such desperate need of the caffeine that he barely even notices, let alone cares.

Stiles needs to wake up between the time he leaves his apartment and the time he gets to his car, and he knows he really should take the stairs, but he just doesn’t have it in him to deal with four flights, even if it’s going down. So he walks to the middle of the hall and pushes the down button, waiting for the painfully slow elevator to make its way up to him.

He doesn’t even notice there’s someone else waiting until the elevator dings and a person slides in next to him. Stiles jumps, almost dropping his coffee, saved only by the fact that he was clinging to his thermos for dear life.

He doesn’t recognize the person at all. Stiles thinks he only looks barely taller, but he still seems much bigger than Stiles, because the only thing he’s got more of than muscle is hair. He’s wearing thick black glasses and a slightly rumpled white t-shirt and jeans that are so tight they make Stiles wince in sympathy. The guy’s hair is ruffled like he just got out of bed, and between that and his clothing choices, Stiles finds himself wondering who in their hallway he could’ve spent the night with. He can’t find any other explanation for why this dude would be in their hallway; Stiles doesn’t recognize him as a tenant, and there’s no other good reason to be somewhere he doesn’t live this early in the morning.

Plus, the guy is really, really hot. Stiles would climb him like a tree without a second’s thought. He’s still baffled, though, because there’s a set of girls ever so slightly older than them on the far end of the hall that are in the running, but there’s literally no one else. Stiles knows that it isn’t the old man next to them.

Stiles doesn’t ask, though he considers it. He gets very close to blurting out questions at the guy. But talking that much would involve ingesting less coffee, so when the elevator finally spits them out on the bottom floor, Stiles forgets the stranger and books his way out the door to the parking lot. He gets in the jeep and skids out, trying to make up for lost time, completely missing Elevator Dude unloading boxes from the back of a small moving truck.

 

* * *

 

 

It takes a while longer for Scott to meet their new neighbor.

It’s almost two weeks before the news filters in that they even have a new neighbor, because no one seems to have gotten more than a passing glance. According to the landlord, he keeps to himself, but he’s reliable and prompt. Stiles says that’s code for “he’s stuck up, but he gets his rent in on time”, and Scott dutifully tells him to give the guy a chance. He knows Stiles is just bitter that they aren’t going to have their part of the floor to themselves.

Scott wants to go over and introduce themselves and to bring some of the cookies that his mom sent them in a care package. Stiles isn’t enthusiastic about it, but he plays along, waiting outside the door with Scott as he knocks and waits for almost ten minutes.

“He’s not here,” Stiles says from where he’s leaning against the door frame. “He must work long hours.”

“Or just different hours,” Scott suggests. “We’ll try again later.”

They never seem to catch him, though, which has Stiles mouthing off that he probably isn’t even real, that he’s probably a rumor that’s being passed around to get everyone worked up and to make Stiles pretend to feel guilty for not being quieter late at night. Scott ignores him and slides a homemade welcome card under their neighbor’s door. Scott makes Stiles sign his name and write a short, friendly, and vaguely encouraging message at the bottom.

It’s not actually Scott’s efforts that put him face to face with their neighbor, though.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a Friday, and Scott has the day off. He’s in the living room in his comfy shorts with no shirt, watching TV and playing one person video games, because Stiles is at work, and Scott has never really been a huge fan of playing with strangers over the internet. He’s had his music up loud for most of the day, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s up to get snacks, he would’ve missed the loud knock on his door.

He’s not sure who it is. It could be his landlord or one of his neighbors coming to complain that he has his music up too loud. It’s happened once or twice before, though he tries to be respectful of the people living around him. It could be Stiles home early from work. It happens from time to time, when things at the office are slow, and Stiles’ boss is feeling charitable. Stiles forgets his key as often as he remembers it, so him being locked out isn’t out of the ordinary.

So Scott goes to the door and opens it without a thought, expecting it’ll be someone he knows. The person standing right outside their door is very much not what he expected. For one, Scott has never seen him before. He would definitely remember him if he had, he’s sure, because his eyes are a stunning shade of green, and his muscles are very, very defined in their sweatiness, covered only by a tank top.

He’s holding a water bottle and a phone in his very big hands. Apparently, this person, whoever he is, has been working out.

“Uh…” he says, and Scott realizes he’s standing there, shirtless, giving this stranger a once-over.

“I’m sorry, dude, I can go… shirt,” Scott says. “If it makes you uncomfortable. I thought it was my boyfriend, he’s bad at remembering his key. Though that’d probably mean a lot more banging than knocking, though, and a lot of him shouting at me to hurry up.”

“It’s fine,” the guy says. “I actually… are you Scott or Stiles?”

“Scott,” he says, sticking out his hand to shake. “Why, is something wrong? It wasn’t Stiles who fucked with the washing machine this time, I promise. He’s been taken off laundry duty after the time he-”

“No, no,” the guy reassures him, a bit stiffly. “I’m not. You didn’t do anything. That I know of. Thanks for warning me about the washing machine, though. I’m Derek, your new neighbor.”

“Oh,” Scott says, lighting up. “ _You’re_ Derek, I’ve been trying to bump into you for ages.”

“I got the card,” Derek says. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem at all. Welcome to the building.”

“Thanks,” Derek repeats.

There’s an awkward silence, and Scott starts to get a bit nervous. This is usually where Stiles would jump in. Scott is friendly, and he’s met very few people he can’t get along with at all, but Stiles has always been better at filling awkward silences. It’s been a long time since Scott has met someone significant like this without Stiles being around. Most of Scott’s conversations without Stiles nowadays are with his mom or with the owners of pets that he’s helping treat, neither of which tends to require a lot of casual conversation with attractive, sweaty awkward neighbors.

“I went to the gym downstairs, but I think I locked my keys inside,” Derek finally blurts. “I don’t have them on me. And I have my phone, but I forgot to add the landlord’s number.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Scott says. He’s a bit disappointed that Derek isn’t there just to meet him, but he’s relieved that there’s something to break the silence. “Let me go get my phone, I can give it to you. You can come in, as long as you don’t raise those eyebrows of yours too much at our mess.”

Derek’s hand immediately goes up to self-consciously trace his eyebrows, and Scott almost feels bad. “They’re nice eyebrows,” he says, immediately feeling silly afterwards. It’s already out, though, and he’s not going to take it back. They are nice eyebrows. So Scott zips his mouth and moves from the doorway, letting Derek into the apartment. He ushers Derek into a chair and runs back to his room to get his phone.

If he pauses first to text Stiles that their neighbor is a hot dude and in their apartment, Derek is none the wiser.

 

* * *

 

 

The landlord can’t let Derek in until after dinner time, so Scott offers to let Derek crash there until then. Stiles will home before too long, so Derek can meet him, and they can all have dinner together.

With Derek sitting down and drinking the glass of ice water that Scott brought him, he seems much more comfortable. Their conversation is still a little bit stilted at first, but it becomes much less awkward, and Scott even manages to coax smiles out of him. They’re beautiful and fleeting, but they warm Scott from the inside. Scott can see what his landlord meant about Derek keeping to himself; he’s not unfriendly, but he’s not the most forthcoming, and he’s got a quiet, wry, blink-and-you-miss-it sense of humor. Scott can appreciate that, though. After being best friends with Stiles for so many years, the subtlety is actually pretty refreshing.

Stiles eventually comes in and plops down next to them, shaking Derek’s hand and rambling a mile a minute about his day at work. He keeps it short, but it’s still a lot to take in. Derek looks less overwhelmed than Scott expects; Stiles even manages to get a grin out of Derek and a comment about demanding bosses, though he doesn’t say what he does.

Stiles gets out his phone and orders pizza for all of them, because working on not arguing with his boss makes him hungry. Derek insists he’s not going to eat a whole pizza by himself, but Stiles orders him one just for himself, anyway. Scott knows how hard it is for Stiles to hold his tongue and not make fun of Derek for the fact that there’s no toppings on his pizza that aren’t vegetables, and he makes a mental note to reward him with an enthusiastic blow job later for being on his best behavior.

He gave Stiles way too much credit way too soon, though. The pizza comes, and the three of them work through more of a 12 pack of beer than Scott would like to admit. He does fine; he paces himself just enough so everything feels easy and a little fuzzy. Stiles sprints his way through, though, cheeks flushed and voice loud and eyes glazed halfway through eating his pizza. He nudges Derek along with him, and though Derek seems to have a much better handle than Stiles, he looks a little bit like he could be one with the couch.

“I called you hot one night stand dude,” Stiles announces from where he’s sprawled with his head in the crook of Derek’s shoulder. “I thought you banged someone in our hall, you had sex hair. Like, you know, the kind of hair when you have a lot of sex and everything is all…” he runs one hand through his hair, leaving the right side ruffled and puffy. “You know?”

“Yeah,” Derek says. “Or, well. No. Sort of?”

Stiles’ eyes go squinty and confused. “That’s too many answers.”

“I’ve seen in movies,” Derek clarifies. “I’ve… never had sex, though.”

Derek’s thrown off-balance when Stiles abruptly moves from where he’s plastered against Derek, clumsily swiveling his entire body to stare at Derek. “ _You’ve_ never had sex? You’re kidding, right? You’re like… muscles! And stubble! You had the dorkiest glasses and you were still _dying of thirst hot_ , I was jealous of the girls down the hall because I thought they were banging you.”

Derek literally covers his face with his hands, and Scott wants to move to the couch just to give him a hug. “I’m a virgin,” Derek says. “I’ve never - I’m… not always the best. At people. My sister Laura has always been better, and Cora… is actually a bit like Stiles, but she always had girlfriends. I had a girlfriend my senior year of high school, Kate, but she found out I liked boys, too, and…”

“Biphobic asshole,” Stiles says fiercely, winding himself up for a rant. Scott decides to diffuse it, because Derek looks troubled enough already, so he stands up, everything spinning slightly as he wanders over and plops down on top of Stiles. He gives Stiles a nice, long kiss, his butt in Stiles’ lap and his legs sprawled all over Derek’s.

“She missed out,” Scott says, when he finally pulls away. Derek rests his hand on Scott’s legs, so Scott settles in, even though Stiles’ lap is too bony to be comfortable. Scott’s too drunk to really be picky. “You’re great,” Scott tells Derek sincerely. “We’d have sex with you.”

The way Derek’s eyebrows furrow up in confusion is almost comical. Scott wants to reach out and smooth them down, so he does, his hand gently tracing along Derek’s face. “Beautiful,” Scott says.

Derek doesn’t look any less confused, but he gives Scott a tentative smile.

Scott’s almost disappointed when the landlord finally comes. Derek has to untangle his limbs from theirs, but when he stands up, he’s steadier on his feet than Scott expects. He thanks them for feeding him and letting hang out with them, and, surprisingly, it’s not Scott but Stiles that waves it off.

“Come over any time,” he says. “Seriously, you’re always welcome, our house is your house. Although you don’t have keys for our - oh, wait, you don’t have keys for yours, either. Maybe they’re the same after all.”

Derek grins sheepishly, but he doesn’t seem too upset with the dig. It makes Scott happy; not a lot of people get that being Stiles’ friend doesn’t mean Stiles will always be _nice_ , and being able to shrug off his jabs is a part of being around him. Derek didn’t seem fazed, and Scott thinks that’s promising.

“Drink some water,” Scott shouts as a parting note, and Derek waves goodnight.

Scott leans against Stiles’ chest, closing his eyes and getting comfortable. He won’t actually fall asleep there. He needs to take his own advice and get a glass of water or two before bed. But right now, he feels warm and happy and sleepy.

A comfortable silence stretches on, so naturally Stiles has to break it. “We’d do more sex him,” he says thoughtfully. “I kind of like him.”

“Yeah,” Scott agrees. “I do, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

They start spending a lot of time together. When Stiles sees Derek’s apartment, he makes Derek promise to come over more often. It’s bare, even though Derek’s been moved in for a while now. Things are still in boxes, and the apartment has no decorations at all aside from one small photograph of a younger Derek with three dark-haired, smiling women. His mom and sisters, he tells them proudly. He misses them. Laura lives in New York and Cora ran off to South America and only contacts them sporadically. He doesn’t say where his mom is, but he gets sad and wistful around the mouth when he says her name, and even Stiles knows better than to ask.

Derek does take to Scott and Stiles’ easy and open physical affection very quickly, like it’s something he’s used to. He still definitely prefers his privacy, though. They still have no concept of what his work schedule is, or if he actually even has one; Stiles keeps a calendar with Derek’s availability on his phone, and he says it doesn’t match up from week to week. Derek very rarely talks about his work, and though Scott says it could just be because he likes to keep his work life and his home life private, Stiles has a list of possibilities.

(“Derek isn’t a spy,” Scott says, the first time he sees it.

“No, scroll all the way up,” Stiles replies, rolling his eyes. “Spy is option number three.”

“He’s not a solo camsboy, either.”

“Well, it would make him still /technically/ a virgin, right?”)

Scott is all about just dropping it, because everything else with Derek is good. Derek doesn’t even seem to mind the fact that Stiles is in flirting mode around him half the time, so Scott doesn’t bother trying to stop Stiles. He’s secretly hoping that one of these days Derek will respond, because it will let them know if the way Derek blushes and goes warm and happy around the mouth is because he likes them, too, or because they’re friends and he’s lonely.

Stiles doesn’t want to drop it, though. He ups the ante on the flirting and he starts googling around for Derek’s name.

The best part is that they figure everything out entirely by accident.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a Friday night, and Derek is in their bathroom. Derek and Stiles ganged up on Scott and talked him into mainlining the original Star Wars movies with them. Derek has them on DVD, so Stiles hauled out their blu-ray player and hooked it up. They just finished the fifth one, and they’re too tired to squeeze in the last movie, but they all agree to see what’s on late night TV.

Scott sees a lot of infomercials on, but he also sees that one channel’s running old Friends episodes in another ten minutes, so he flips to the channel and waits. He zones out, resting his eyes.

They’re jolted open when Stiles sets his hand on Scott’s thigh. “Fuck, Scott. You gotta see this.”

When Scott opens his eyes, he gives Stiles a weird look. It’s just a drug company commercial, one that they’ve seen so many times that Scott doesn’t even pay attention to it anymore. He’s realizing that maybe he should have, though, because there’s a familiar face on the television. There’s some gray added to the temples, but he would recognize the green eyes and muscles and thick black glasses anywhere.

There are scenes of Derek laughing and biking with an older woman, one of Derek swinging a tennis racket and high fiving the woman. Scott wants to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Stiles actually starts sniggering next to him. Scott’s more engrossed with the list of side effects than he’s ever been, with Derek in the background as they’re read. But it’s the end of the commercial that will be forever immortalized in his memory.

“When the moment is right, will you be ready? I will, thanks to Cialis,” Derek says earnestly, and the screen slowly fades to the logo.

“Oh,” a voice says behind them, and Scott jumps. He hadn’t even realized Derek had come back into the room, he had been so caught up in the fact that Derek was _in an erectile dysfunction commercial._

“I’m realizing why you never told us what you do, dude,” Stiles says, muting the TV.

“It’s hard to make it as an actor,” Derek says defensively. His whole demeanor is back to the first night Scott met him, stiff and awkward. “This pays the bills. It’s the only reason I can afford a place this nice.”

“Woah,” Stiles says, “We’re not going to criticize your career choices. Half of Scott’s job is cleaning up after animals until the people in the office think he’s old enough to do real shit, and there is nothing about my job I actually like. I want to do the job the person above me is doing, and I have to wait my turn. Neither of those involve _erectile dysfunction_ , but you take what you can get, if it pays the bills, right?”

Derek seems extremely skeptical, even though Stiles managed to keep a totally straight face through all of it. Scott sighs. “Come here,” Scott says, patting the couch next to him. Derek hesitates, but he wanders over, sitting between them on the couch.

“We aren’t going to make fun of you for it if it’s that upsetting to you,” Scott says. He wraps an arm around Derek’s shoulder, and he feels Stiles bracket Derek in on his other side. “I didn’t expect it, and it’s pretty funny that they think that putting gray in your hair makes you old enough for a Cialis commercial, but…”

“But…?” Derek asks.

“We still love you,” Scott says seriously, “and Stiles will probably tease you, but we’re not gonna be mean about it.”

When Derek turns his head towards Scott, their faces are so close that Scott would barely even have to lean in to kiss him. “You love me?” Derek asks, his brows wrinkling up in confusion.

“Yeah,” Scott says breathlessly. “Both of us.”

Derek’s lips part, and he takes a deep breath. “I love you, too. Both of you.”

Scott glances at Stiles over Derek’s shoulder, checking to make sure, and when Stiles winks and puckers his lips, Stiles leans in and presses a soft kiss, just brushing Derek’s lips. Derek’s eyes go wide, and Scott thinks he’ll pull away. He’s as surprised as Derek seems to be when Derek pushes in, deepens the kiss, only pulling away once Scott can feel the skin around his lips prickling from Derek’s stubble.

They’ve only been separated for a heartbeat when Stiles pipes up. “My turn,” he demands, and Derek laughs, deep and throaty, before turning to give Stiles what he wants.

They don’t send Derek home at the end of the night. It’s 4 AM when they’re ready to sleep, and Derek is dozing off on their couch, happy and settled and well-kissed, so they drag him to their bed. It’s probably a bit quick for it, by most people’s standards, but to them it feels natural. They’ll talk in the morning, but for now, they let him strip his jeans off and they squeeze to make room for him, fitting three people in a bed made for two. Stiles almost kicks Scott off the bed, and Derek drools all over Stiles’ shirt.

Scott has trouble falling asleep, since Stiles and Derek have stolen most of the covers, but when he does doze off, his sleep is deep and sound.

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you want to have sex?” Stiles unceremoniously drops into conversation one afternoon. Derek splutters, though Scott isn’t in the least little bit surprised. They’ve been dating now for weeks, and they’ve been carefully dodging around it. Derek occasionally spends the night, but they’ve never gone beyond kissing in their underwear.

All that being around around Derek mostly naked has been getting to Stiles, though. He’s not the most patient person, and sex is one of Stiles’ favorite things. He loves Derek, and if Derek says he doesn’t want sex, Stiles will be disappointed but respectful. But that doesn’t mean Stiles is gonna sit still and twiddle his thumbs and wait for Derek to bring it up on his own, because that may take a while.

“Now?” Derek asks tentatively, once he recovers some. “Or generally?”

“Either,” Stiles says casually. “I mean, like, I would totally sex you up right here, you don’t even know, you’ve been biting your lip all morning and I’ve been wondering how it’d look around my dick…”

Derek almost chokes on his tongue, and Scott nudges Stiles. “Slow down,” he reminds him. “Virgin ears, here.”

“No, it’s not…” The tips of Derek’s ears are turning a bit red. “Yes? I want that with you two. Not now, but.”

“Soon?” Stiles presses.

“I’ll let you know,” Derek promises. “But sooner rather than later.”

It turns out that ‘sooner rather than later’ means that weekend.

Scott and Stiles make dinner, because they have some vegetables in the fridge that are getting close to going bad, and Scott feels like it is irresponsible to get takeout when there is perfectly good food in the fridge. Stiles goes along with it after much flattery. After all those years of making sure his dad ate right, Stiles was forced to pick up a few tricks to make vegetables palatable. Scott is always sure to offer enough compliments to nudge Stiles into cooking them again, because Scott is a bit hopeless with vegetables. They always come out soggy and bland.

They have a meal ready by the time Derek gets back from work. He had some sort of audition, though he wouldn’t tell Scott or Stiles much about it. He never likes to talk much about his work stuff, mostly because he doesn’t like to jinx things. He seems to be in good spirits when he finally comes around, though, and Scott has his fingers crossed that this one might work out for him.

The three of them have eaten and are getting ready to clean up when Derek clears his throat. They both glance over at him, not sure what to expect. Scott figures that it’s going to be news about work, or about Laura, who has been promising to come visit and meet Scott and Stiles and help finish unpacking for ages, but hasn’t been able to get away from New York.

“Do you want to have sex?” Derek says, instead.

“Well, I don’t know,” Stiles says, dragging his words out as long as he can make them. “There was a movie on Netflix that I was really dying to see tonight…”

For as self-conscious as he seems, his hands folded in his lap and his shoulders hunched, expression nervous, Derek seems to realize that Stiles is fucking with him. “Okay,” Derek says, “we can totally watch a movie instead, I’m good with that. I hope it’s a long one-”

There’s a loud squawking noise, and when Scott turns, he sees Stiles making the most indignant, offended expression Scott has ever seen. Derek’s efforts to keep a straight face are admirable, but in the end even he has to relent, a wide grin spreading across his face. “I’ll take that as a yes?” he says.

“Definitely,” Scott answers for both of them. “Definitely a yes. Was there something you wanted?”

“I want everything,” Derek says. “It’s hard to choose.”

“We’ve gotcha covered, big guy,” Stiles informs Derek, reaching across the table to pat him on the shoulder. “I know exactly what I want.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Scott tells Derek. “He’s been talking about it for ages. He wants you to blow him and for me to fuck you. If that’s good with you.”

“Way to make it sound boring,” Stiles says. “My boyfriend, Dirty Talk Master.”

Derek ignores Stiles entirely. “That sounds perfect. I’ve never…”

“We know,” Scott reassures him. “We can help. Just let us take care of you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Scott and Stiles take that promise to heart. They don’t give him any space to be nervous or self-conscious as they lead him to their bedroom. They take turns kissing and stripping him, Stiles running his hands along Derek’s back and kissing his neck while Scott takes care of his sweatpants and boxers. Scott and Stiles make quick work of their own clothes so they can refocus on Derek.

They guide him onto his hands and knees and help him get a condom on Stiles so he can blow him. They let him take his time figuring out what to do with his mouth, though Stiles tangles his hand in Derek’s hair, gently running his nails against Derek’s scalp and physically guiding him, making sure Derek comes up for air. Derek wants as much of Stiles in his mouth as he can, and Stiles has to keep him from trying to choke himself taking Stiles down all at once.

Derek takes to it well, especially once Stiles starts getting too caught up in the wet heat of Derek’s mouth to help. Scott whispers instructions right in Derek’s ear, so he can hear them over Stiles’ noises, telling him when to mouth at the head of Stiles’ dick and wrapping his fingers around Derek’s, helping him get the pressure just right on the parts he can’t take into his throat. Derek is putty in Scott’s hands, taking direction like it’s what he was born for, like having someone tell him what to do is winding him up just as much as the feel of Stiles in his mouth and the base of Stiles’ long cock in his hand. Scott knows all of Stiles’ secrets, knows every single trick to taking him apart, and Derek is eager to learn as many of them in one night as he can.

When Stiles finally comes into the condom, Derek pulls off, licking the taste of latex off his lips and staring sadly at the condom. His lips are swollen and his voice is rough when he finally speaks. “We can go without that someday, right? I want to taste you.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Stiles says, pulling the condom off and tying it up, tossing it carelessly off the side of the bed. “I’m all on board with that.”

“We’ll talk about it,” Scott promises, a reassuring hand on the smooth skin of Derek’s back, covering the dark lines of Derek’s tattoo. “Right now, we’re gonna open you up.”

Scott thought Derek took to oral quickly, but he is stunned at the easy way Derek takes to fingers slicked up inside him. “This is something I do on my own time,” Derek had explained, his voice strained as Stiles nudged a third finger inside. Scott’s attention moves quickly from the condom he’s putting on himself to images of Derek on his bed, face flushed and sweaty and three of his nice, thick fingers pressed inside his hole.

“You’ll have to show us sometime,” Scott says casually, but he’s totally serious. He wants that, more than anything; to see what Derek likes when he’s touching himself, to see if he can get himself so worked up he splatters come all over his hairy chest without touching his dick, to see if he’s as easy for his own fingers as he is for Stiles’. To see what he does to make himself feel good.

When Scott finally fucks into Derek, he turns Derek onto his back and takes it slow, as much to give himself time to adjust as it is to give Derek time to adjust. He swaps kisses with Derek, swallowing Derek’s quiet, tentative hums and muffled moans when he finally starts to fuck into him harder. Stiles keeps busy by running his hands along Derek’s body, testing to see how Derek reacts to Stiles’ hands and mouth on Derek’s nipples. He’s pleased when he draws out quiet whimpers to accompany the noises Scott’s fucking out of him.

There’s only so long they can string him out for, though, when everything is new and overwhelming. Scott fucks into him hard, and Stiles gets his hand around Derek’s dick, tugging until Derek’s spilling all over Stiles and himself. After a few, quick rabbit thrusts, Scott’s coming, too, stilling for a moment and then melting on top of Derek, Derek’s come smearing all over his skin.

“God,” Derek says, wrapping a heavy arm around Scott. “Is it always this good?”

Stiles grins lazily. “Sometimes it’s better.”

 

* * *

 

 

Derek enters the apartment using the brand new key they had made for him, not even bothering to knock. He doesn’t need to; he knows they’re where they always are, sitting on the couch and playing on their phones, the TV running in the background.

“Guys,” he announces. “I got the part.”

Stiles is up immediately, tripping over himself trying to jump the couch and congratulate him. “Holy shit. No more erectile dysfunction commercials? because let me tell you, now that I’ve seen that dick in action, I’m not sure I can believe them, I’m starting to question-”

“No more erectile dysfunction commercials,” Derek agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com).


End file.
